My Grandfather would take his corn to this mill for grinding into cornmeal and feed. I remember riding to the mill in a wagon pulled by his tractor. Sitting on top of a heaping pile of dried corn. Inside the mill the air was filled with sweet corn dust so thick you could hardly breath. I loved standing near the shoot where the golden nuggets came gushing out of a pipe into a holding bin. Oh how I wanted to jump into that bin of corn kernels.